


Alien

by Nekhs



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Venom (Movie 2018)
Genre: Alien Biology, Alien Character(s), Alien/Human Relationships, Canon-Typical Cannibalism, Carl Brock's A+ Parenting, Changing Tenses, Cults, Earworm, Eddie Brock has ADHD, Food, Human Biology, Human Disaster Eddie Brock, Humanity, Hyperfocus, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Kissing, Language Barrier, Nausea, Nightmares, Other, Persistence predation, Portal game (mentioned), Pre-Slash, Self-Esteem Issues, Sleep, Song Lyrics, Tattoos, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Traditions, fight me, gender - discussed, misogyny - discussed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-24
Updated: 2019-05-09
Packaged: 2019-10-15 17:58:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 7,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17533484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nekhs/pseuds/Nekhs
Summary: V hasn't always been knowledgeable about their host's species. Klyntar are only as alien to humans as humans are to the Klyntar.Bite-sized drabbles about Eddie teaching V the basics of the human condition, set shortly after they agree to co-habitate but before they've actually figured much of anything out.More chapters to be added as inspiration strikes!





	1. Survival

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Humans are not actually apex predators - as animals, we land somewhere toward the middle of the food chain, and we're generalist omnivores besides: we don't technically have to eat meat. 
> 
> V doesn't entirely know what to do with this information.

Humans aren't predators at all.

It feels like it shouldn't be such a dramatic revelation, as their Eddie heaves, struggling to throw up their meal despite the fact that they've completely stopped the relevant muscles. 

This isn't the first time that his body has tried to reject their meals. 

**“EDDIE,”** they say, and he startles like prey. 

His body is soft, fragile, and yet, he not only survived the fall into the bay, but he protected that last little seed of their essence, shielding them as they grew back into the spaces between his organs. “Jesus Christ - what, V, what - ” He pressed his hand to his mouth, swallowing down his nausea, and they knew he was trying. For them. 

**“Eddie,”** they try again, using a slightly quieter tone. This yields better results.  **“Are humans not the dominant life form on your planet?”**

Stunned silence dominates the bathroom. Distracting him works wonders; already, Eddie's mind has begun to churn into action, and his body is subsequently ignored. 

“I mean, we're pretty solidly on top, yeah?” He sounds puzzled, by this. “Why d'you ask?”

They roll thin tendrils through his hair, absently.  **“You are soft. Your claws are a mockery, your fangs are few in number, crowded out by blunt molars. You are only so fast, only so strong.”**

“I mean, none of that changes the fact we made this world our bitch, V.” He sits back against the door, still not really trusting his stomach. “Like, sure, we aren't some big fuck-off murder beasts, but - it's like, remember with the rocket, remember Annie? She told you she could fight ugly, and then she showed you, right? Used the right tools for the job.”

He reaches up to caress their exposed tendrils, and they allow it. Humans are social creatures, and touch is an integral part of their bonding process. V has grown accustomed to these touches, though they do not yet fully understand them.  **“Explain.”**

“Like - that's human history in a nutshell, dude. We’re not the biggest, not the strongest, but we figured shit out, right?” Eddie knows a bit about not being the largest or strongest in a given fight, but he is talking about a time he was not alive to witness. It is an odd concept, but they listen with fascination. “So, we don't have claws, but a knife works well enough. A spear's even better, right, and so pretty early on, we've got weapons to fuck up the bigger animals, yeah?”

They consider this. Riot forms - formed - weapons out of their own essence, which gives them an advantage over combatants with no such tools. Their victory came when, instead of fighting Riot directly, they merely used the tools at hand. Exploding the rocket had been Eddie's idea, and it had  _ worked _ .

“And like, it's not just that, like, we've got some good points, too. We're like, crazy durable, you know? Not like you, but still - ” He wipes his hand across his mouth, closing his eyes. “We do all right. Plus, we can go a hell of a lot longer without eating anything.”

Durable. The idea was ludicrous, and yet …

**“Explain,”** they demand again. 

He raises an eyebrow at them. “Can't you just poke around in my head,  find out that way?”

**“We can.”** They paused. **“Like to hear your voice. Like** **_you_ ** **.”**

A soft laugh escapes their host, and they feel every part of their essence flutter with wonder. “All right, all right. So like, the squishy bits, right, that's fat. Stored up energy, so if things get rough, like - back in the day, it was so if hunting or gathering or whatever went to shit, we'd have a reserve.”

**“We have heard of fat. Humans believe it makes them unattractive. Is it not better to be equipped for survival?”**

Eddie shrugs vaguely, smiling in his lopsided fashion. “I dunno, V. I guess it is, but humans are kinda dumb like that. The point is, like, we can survive a lot. Like a lot - there's like - not too many parts that have to be one hundred percent intact - like, you were literally chewing on my organs, for a bit, right? ‘s all said and done, now, right, but I mean - Dan made it sound kind of like I was falling apart at the seams because of you, and I still did okay.”

That is … fair. They roll this thought over within their essence.  **“I apologize,”** they repeat, because that's the human thing to do, and they want Eddie to like them. 

“Water under the bridge, babe. You see what I mean, though? Instead of thick hide, we just kinda - heal up. Plus, we come back stronger.” He grinned, at that. 

They nuzzle against him, hesitantly, and he resumes the gentle touching. They've come to enjoy this. **“Stronger?”** they prompt. 

“Yeah, like, you break a bone, right, when it heals up, it's stronger, so it won't break in the same place.” They file this knowledge away, but it's true, they've seen those places in his own body. At the time, it made no sense. “Plus, like, scars aren't pretty, but they're tough, right, same kinda deal.”

Black tendrils wrap around him, comfortably spreading their touch everywhere they can comfortably reach.  **“Eddie?”**

“Yeah?”

They smile.  **“We are glad to be us. Humans are weird, but it is an acceptable weird.”**

“Love you too, babe.”

The endearment sits heavy in the air, and it still feels decidedly unreal.  **“Love you more.”**

He laughs.

It's a good sound.   
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I picture Klyntar as kind of defaulting to Exactly the Present Moment, no past, no future. It's why I tend to write these earlier moments primarily in present tense. 
> 
> By the time of Offspring, they've sort of figured it out.


	2. Sleep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sleep isn't unique, but it's still weird.

Hosts require sleep.

This is far from a uniquely human phenomenon, and though V has never been particularly interested in the nightly dormancy ritual, they _have_ always tolerated it more than other Klyntar.

They are too gentle with their hosts, according to the others, and yet, they are alive and the others are not.

Riot claimed that it was their host which made Venom strong, but their host could only remain strong with food and rest. Is it not a net benefit, then, to take care of their hosts?

Is their gentleness not the source of their victory?

Eddie stirs, and his heartrate picks up. His breathing follows, and his brain begins to churn out stress hormones. He is having another nightmare. V has a working theory that this part of the dormancy ritual is a survival reflex: the host remembers pain in order to learn. They chew on bad memories so that they can avoid such situations in the future.

It doesn’t make it easier to hear Eddie whimper in his sleep.

They redistribute their mass, pressing their weight around him. **I got us,** they whisper into his brain. **It’s okay. Sleep.**

He settles, and they relax.

Klyntar don’t really go for rumination. They tend to exist wholly in the present moment, which often leads them into trouble. They don’t learn from their past, nor do they plan for the future: there is only the joy of the hunt, the glory of the kill.

Maybe that is why their hive became stranded upon a barren rock, deep in hibernation, waiting for the _chance_ that some unlucky species might stumble upon them. It seems likely.

In their natural form, the Klyntar are ever-shifting, ever-changing. They don’t really hold to any consistent shape, and only the most simple of concepts are encoded in their consciousness. They are the aching hunger of the void: they destroy, they feast, and they move on.

A host changes this, just as they change their hosts. V accepts these changes: they want to be more than simple hunger, and a host makes them more.

Most Klyntar - do not.

It seems obvious that their choice was correct: they have survived, and the others have not. And yet, this is not what they were taught. Is it because this increases the value of the host?

This, too, seems likely.

Eddie’s eyes flutter behind his lids. He settles into the bed, and again, his mind plays back fragmented memories. There is a storm of electricity humming through his brain, and if they try, they can discern meaning from the signals.

Here is Annie - **we like Annie** \- and there is Dan.

They have come to privately include the couple in their concept of the Hive. It is comforting, therefore, to see them even in memory.

Eddie’s brain runs through pleasant scenarios with the pair. Communal eating is a human tradition, and he pictures all four of them sitting around a table.

The plates are made from open skulls, the brains exposed to open air. Everyone is laughing, talking, joyous.

Eddie sees the _food,_ sees Annie go to take a bite, and he is overwhelmed by panic, revulsion.

He is awake before they realize it.

V feels shame. They want to be more than just their hunger, but it is impossible to deny.

**Sorry, Eddie.**

He huffs a sigh into the darkness. “Not the most fucked up nightmare I’ve ever had.” His hand presses against his face, he groans. A vague glance toward the window confirms that it’s still dark out, which tells him that it’s still far too early for him to be awake. “I need t’get more sleep than that. Can you … do somethin’ with that?”

**Of course.**

They would do anything for Eddie - even give up brains. If only they knew how.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> V kinda likes sleep. They're weird; they enjoy taking time to actually think about things. If they ever get bored, they can always watch TV or poke around on Eddie's smartphone, though.


	3. Companionship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Look, humans will feed anything, right, interstellar goo-monsters are hardly the weirdest things we've been known to bond with.

**Why not?**

Human society is built upon rules, and V has never exactly been interested in leading. Even if they were absolutely certain that they could establish dominance over every human on the planet (they are not), they just are not interested in rewriting the rules of this hive to serve their interests. 

Which means they have to learn to work inside of those rules, regardless of how illogical they seem to be.

_ Why not - why don't we - I guess he wouldn't - _

Eddie is trying to learn to speak to them as they speak to him, by focusing his thoughts. The trouble is, Eddie's thoughts chase themselves around the inside of his skull in a whirlwind of constant activity. 

But he is trying. 

_ So - it's like this - God, how do I - so you wouldn't eat me, right, even though I'm not like you, I'm not (whaddyacallit) Klyntar? _

There's a thrumming undercurrent to his thoughts, social rules, the exact process for making use of this public mode of transportation, but the conscious and subconscious layers of thought are distinct enough they can discern the thread of what he intends to communicate. 

**Never,** they agree.  **Never again hurt our Eddie.**

He leans back in his seat, closing his eyes. This reduces the number of external stimuli that he is subject to, which cuts much of the subconscious chatter. 

_ Right (thank you for that) so, it's like that, we love pets (am I a pet?) sometimes more than we like other people (don't think about being a pet on the fucking BART, Eddie, don't be that guy) and so pets are strictly off the menu.  _

They send a wave of amusement, and the image of their Eddie with a pair of dog ears.

He groans, burying his face in his hands. 

**So,** they continue, rolling the idea of ‘pets’ around in their essence.  **Humans form emotional attachment to lesser creatures, and therefore we should not eat the ones which have been claimed?**

_ Man, (I wouldn't mind) humans form emotional bonds with anything (but V would think I'm weird) like, (the Aperture Science Weighted Companion Cube will never threaten to stab you, and in fact, cannot speak) and I mean, you've seen that, I love you, man, and you're about as far from human as it gets.  _

And he does, that's the thing, his brain has ascribed the same degree of meaning, the same depth of feeling to V as it has any of the other important humans in his life. Klyntar do not, as a rule, experience emotion in the way that humans do. Eddie knows this, accepts this, and loves V anyway. 

It was probably inevitable that they would end up developing a reciprocal bond; hosts change things, and they know this. 

_ It's kind of funny (like that elephant?) but we kind of have a talent for that, _ he explains, his mind churning through the rules for disembarking the vehicle at his stop.  _ It's like - we kind of - even predators (oh, or the big cats!) we're good at getting other things to bond with us, too. _

He shares an image of an enormous feline wrapping its forepaws around a human, and the knowledge that the animal could easily kill the human, but has chosen not to. 

This - this seems like something they should know more about. They tug at his memories, and he opens to them, casually stuffing his hands in his pockets as knowledge floods them. Humans have done this, again and again - they provide for their families, yes, but they also share their food and homes with all manner of nonhuman creatures. 

Dogs were once wolves, and even wolves have been known to tolerate humans in their midst. Cats, again and again, have invaded human spaces and been welcomed for it. 

Prey animals are raised, given shelter, and protected until such time as the human requires their meat, and even still, humans show compassion in their kills; they do not cause undue pain if they are able. 

Eddie's mind is full of caveats, little side paths that lead into research he has performed, stories he has written, but the fact remains that humans at least  _ try _ to maintain the wellbeing of these creatures. The idea is unheard-of to a Klyntar, and yet, it makes sense. 

**Humans,** they muse,  **are uniquely suited to symbiosis. What other species would welcome such a bond?**

Eddie smiles as he opens his front door.  _ You did, _ he points out, and they can't exactly refute the point - without the Klyntar, there is no bond. 

**Your fault,** they tease, and he grins. 

Humans are weird, Eddie is weird - and yet, they've come to like that. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hc Eddie as having ADHD, which probably complicates the whole idea of telepathy a bit.


	4. Focus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eddie's kind of weird for a human. Humans are kind of weird as a species.

In a lot of ways - a lot of decidedly non-physical ways - Eddie reminds V of another Klyntar.

Possibly, that is wishful thinking. He has already become so familiar, and they already cannot imagine allowing themselves to be separate from him for more than a moment or two at a time.

And yet, he is always in motion, always going from one thought to the next. It's surprising, how much energy he has; in a very real way, he seems to never really get tired. This is contradictory; humans are hosts like any others, and they do require sleep. Still, they remember the discussion about how it is that humans store energy, and they assume that's all it is. 

The first time it happens, they are unprepared. Eddie is working, which, he insists, is something that he must do primarily on his own. They have not yet learned to fit their essence around human society in all its myriad complexities; they do not object to this request at first. 

He settles into the chair and begins to work. One leg comes up, tucked under the other, as his mind absorbs data, and his body falls unusually still. He drinks the bitter, black poison until the cup empties, but he isn't really aware of that - three separate times before noon, he tries to drink from the empty cup before realizing it’s empty and setting it back down on the table and continuing his work. 

While it is fascinating to see the storm of electricity in his brain, they worry a bit when he makes no move to rectify this situation. Before it can recur, they carefully work to extend their still-limited essence across the kitchen. A black tendril shoots out, attempting to collect the mug only to clumsily knock it off the desk. 

His brain registers the event, he looks vaguely surprised, and then he goes back to piecing together the story, ignoring the shattered cup.  “Don't worry, I'll get it in a bit.”

He does not. 

He reaches for the empty space, realizes that it is, in fact, empty, and why - and ignores it. 

His body begins to fatigue. His tongue becomes dry, his stomach rumbles, but his mind is so focused that these stimuli go ignored. Briefly, he shifts his legs around and they wonder if he will actually get up to move - and he does not. 

**“Eddie,”** they coax, mid afternoon. He has yet to eat the second meal, and his stomach is sending signals that feel painful to them, and yet, he's still completely ignoring it. 

They aren't really surprised that he doesn't actually notice their voice.  **“EDDIE,”** they repeat, louder, and they press a tendril directly against his temporal lobe, pushing the word into his mind, demanding his attention. 

He startles, his entire body flooding with stress hormones. “Jesus, V, what's the matter?”

**“You need food. We got rid of the cup. You are thirsty.”**

Eddie blinked,  blinked again, and glanced down at the space where the cup had fallen. They had consumed it. It wasn't particularly tasty, but it had some of the minerals they had found naturally in Eddie's body, and the effort of breaking it down into slightly more usable molecules had distracted them from their concern for a bit. 

“What time - ah, yeah. Thanks, V.”

He gets up, and his mind is still gnawing at the story. Without really contemplating what he's doing, he goes for another cup, fills it with the bitter poison, and begins cooking a platter of tater tots.

**“Water, Eddie.”** They have yet to convince Eddie that the bitter poison is, in fact, poisonous, but he does need to drink something that will actually replenish his lost liquids. Caffeine, for all its supposedly miraculous properties, also serves to dehydrate him further. 

They persist until he actually fills a cup and drinks it down, smiling fondly at them. His fingertips scrape against their essence, and they shiver. They have noticed that their sense of touch has been growing more acute, the longer they are bonded;  they assume it is a natural facet of their symbiosis. 

Humans are deeply tactile, after all.

Eddie returns to his work after eating, but he is distracted now. It is difficult for him to settle back into the work, and every noise disrupts the electrical storm in his skull. His leg moves, seemingly of its own accord, bouncing in time to a rhythm that only he is aware of. 

Finally, he gives up, shaking his head. “I'm going for a run,” he says, lips tugging sideways in a smile. “Wanna come?”

**“Always,”** they reply, because they're uncertain what he would do if their response was negative. He laughs, and it's a wonderful sound to hear, even if they don't understand the humor. They resolve to learn, if only so they can make it happen more often. 

Humans, in comparison to other hosts, simply do not seem to tire, not really. Eddie is neither the fastest host that they have ever inhabited, nor the strongest, but in exchange, he is weirdly durable. 

His muscles produce toxins, which are carried away to one of the numerous filters in his body. His muscles begin to tear themselves apart in small, subtle ways, and they heal the damage instinctively. He does not get sore, and, curious, they begin to consume the toxins. 

He continues running, pausing only a moment to drink from a bottle of water. 

After his second time tracing the same route, he sits briefly on a bench, lifting his phone to his ear and speaking quietly. “Are you healing me, V?” This is a trick he's come up with; the effort of speaking aloud focuses his thoughts more sharply on the words. 

**Yes,** they reply.  **Always.**

To his credit, he doesn't seem surprised by this. “Cool, I think? That's kind of how we build strength, is all - little tears in the muscles open up and then they heal up stronger.” He is very certain about the first half of that statement - dozens of memories confirm the deep ache he should be feeling right now - but the details on the second part are something of a gap in his memory. “Anyway, I'm gonna head back and see if I can't finish up that article, don't let me keep you - ” He feigns disconnecting a call, the motion reading as a lie. 

Humans cannot sense falsehoods; so long as he imitates the action convincingly, they will believe he is speaking to someone distant. The idea is foreign, but they accept it to be true. 

Showers are ‘private,’ and they have learned that Eddie squawks in alarm if they attempt to so much as communicate with him. The moment he is out of the shower and once again covered by his artificial secondary skin, however, they emerge, peering at him curiously. 

**“If we had not healed your body, would you have been able to run so long?”**

He blinks. “I mean, probably? Humans are - we can kinda go forever, you know? There's, like, studies and shit that way, waaaay back in the day, we used to hunt like that, you know?” He gestures, vaguely, before wrapping his torso in the thermal covering he calls a bathrobe. It goes over the ‘boxers,’ which protect and disguise his sensitive genitalia. “Like, sure, bigger animals and stuff could go faster, and they're harder to kill or whatever, but we'd, like, walk along behind ‘em with spears and if they tried to rest, we'd stab ‘em a little bit, and eventually they'd just fall down dead.”

He'd read an article about it once, they can tell that the details are hazy, but the general idea behind it rings true. Moreover, it fits with everything else they've learned about his ridiculous species. 

**“Eddie?”** Their voice sounds uncertain, even to their own ears. 

He takes another sip from his water bottle. “Yeah, V?”

**“Humans are weird.”** This earns them another chuckle, and another gentle pat on the head. 

It feels - nice. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I woke up in the middle of the night for no good reason, so I tossed this together while trying to convince my brain to shut back down.


	5. Tattoos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a conversation is thoroughly derailed.

**“Eddie,”** they ask, one sunny afternoon.  **“What purpose do your markings serve?”**

He startles, slightly, before focusing. “What, my tattoos?”

**“Yes. Your markings.”** They draw up several thin tentacles, carefully peeling his collar away from one of the largest of the markings, an elaborate image of a large bird on his chest. 

He shrugs, slightly, cheeks warming somewhat. “Is this a me-question or another human-question? Like, tattoos have a lotta reasons, V.”

**“... yes.”**

A playful smile tugs at his lips. “Okay then. Reason number one is just they look cool. Ornamentation's pretty big, right, people like looking cool.”

**“Attractive exteriors aid in procuring a mate.”** They consider.  **“Is this how you managed to acquire Annie?”**

It is, by now, obvious that Annie is a superior class of mate. By all accounts, she should have been unattainable for a loser like Eddie.

Eddie presses his hand to his chest with a flair that he calls dramatic. “Okay, first off,  _ ouch _ . Second off, ouch.” He does not seem to be in actual pain, despite his theatrics. It has been over a month since the last time thinking of Annie had caused him distress. “Third … I dunno, V, I always figured it was my sparkling personality, but I guess it could be that rugged ‘bad boy’ appeal, sure.”

**“But you are not bad. You are the best human we know.”**

His cheeks warm, again, and his heart beats irregularly. Warmth spreads through his chest, and they make an intrigued note of this reaction. “Right, well, guy covered in tattoos has a certain kind of image.”

**“Why.”**

One finger comes up, and he quickly presses it against their head in an affectionate gesture he refers to as a ‘boop.’ They wait until the gesture is complete to gently nip at his fingertip, though they make certain not to cause harm. “So, it's like - the process of getting one kinda hurts, yanno? To get it to stay, we have artists put the ink under our skin with little needles, right? Depending on where it's done, it hurts more, like - pretty much anything near bone hurts like a bitch, for example.”

**“ … and this is something you do** **_willingly?”_ **

Eddie grins. They like this expression, and for a moment, just a moment, their stream of consciousness is derailed by just how pleasant that expression is. 

If they were human, they decide, he would not require ornamentation to capture them. In fact, they imagine they would prefer he have less ornamentation:  his secondary skin would serve as a hindrance. This in mind, they coil several tendrils possessively along his arm. He is theirs, and the idea of competition suddenly fills them with wary unease. 

His eyes droop half-closed, at their undisguised thoughts, and his cheeks burn a slightly brighter shade of red. He is flustered.

“Y-yeah, well, humans, you know, sometimes we like a bit of pain. We're weird, like that.”

His tongue dips out to add moisture to his lips, and they remember the kiss they shared in the forest. Suddenly, impulsively, they chase his tongue with their own. His eyes droop shut, and a heady rush of pleasure follows the act. 

Very little discussion occurs, after that. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that just kinda snuck up on me. Have another 'Neko woke up unexpectedly' chapter.


	6. Misogyny

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which V's grasp of English is limited to Eddie's own.
> 
> (Or: _Pussy,_ and why it's a bad word)
> 
> (Warning: Negative Self-Talk, mentioned bullying, mentioned child abuse, discussion of the gender binary, and discussion of casual misogyny and why it's bad.)

The thing is, V only knows as much about human language as Eddie does.

They'd chosen the insult as one of Eddie's favorites to undermine himself, and his brain had linked it to cowardice.

Now, things are different.

Before, he'd been a temporary ride - had he _really_ ever been anything other than their only chance at perfection? - but now, he was home. Now, they were determined to build him up, rather than break him down.

**Eddie,** they begin, pressing a tendril into his temporal lobe and ensuring, for a moment, that they're the only thing he can hear. **What does that word mean?**

Distracting Eddie can be laughably easy. It works in their favor, this time.

“Whuh?” He asks, while his brain recycles everything he's said recently. It was already doing that, though - he was wearing guilt like a shroud,  misery weighing heavy on his mind.

They offer a small grumble, before drawing it up from his memory.

**Pussy,** it repeats, in his own voice - in his father's voice - in the other boys’ voices. He's heard the insult repeatedly, enough that it's added itself to his internal lexicon of self-hatred. He is a coward, the word says, unfit, unworthy.

“... ah, fuck.” And he groans, and covers his face, and the thought rises unbidden: _and now I've taught casual misogyny to my genderless space alien bodymate. Good job, Eddie. Fucking idiot loser._

The bitter twist to his thoughts is painful. They push free of his skin, forming a face so they can show him that they are _real_ and _present_ and _seeing him_ and _touching him,_ all of which seem to help ground him in the moment. **“Eddie,”** they say. **“Do not insult yourself. You are part of us. We will not allow it.”**

He tries, because he is aggressively contrary. They muddy his thoughts.

Three more times.

**“Eddie. The word.”**

They have a hunch, though they’re trying really hard not to invade his thoughts anymore. Humans care about privacy.

Eddie huffs a sigh, flops back on his bed. “So … to start, I guess, you have to understand that, y’know - ” He brings his hand up, twisting his wrist idly, the bracelets clicking against each other. “So, most people accept we have two basic genders, men like me, and women like Anne.” There’s a sense at the back of his thoughts, that this is an oversimplification, but for this purpose, it will suffice. They'll ask later, maybe.

Hosts are kind of weird about breeding.

**“We like Annie,”** V says suddenly. **“She is good. A strong, smart host. If we had not met you, Annie would have been good. But we have Eddie, and Eddie is the best.”**

Eddie laughs, nervously, and the back of his mind still tastes bitter. “Yeah. So - about that. So, you know that idea your people have, the strong rule the weak, right? Well, guys, you noticed already, we tend to be bigger, stronger, right? So we ended up ruling stuff in a lot of places, and a lot of the shit that slips into our language makes it out like women are bad, weak, or cowardly.”

**“... that is a stupid idea.”** Their mouth twists to mimic a frown. **“Annie is smart, and strong. We would have died without Annie.”**

He nodded. “Oh, I know. It’s just - the words people use, sometimes they kinda get stuck in your head even if you don’t want them to. So, ‘pussy’ means - you know, a lady’s junk - “ He means to say, ‘reproductive organs,’ “ - and, because people suck, sometimes they use that as a synonym for coward, since a _man_  just rushes in doin’ whatever stupid shit he wants.”

**“... is this why rash, idiotic behavior earns the nickname, ‘dick’?”**

Eddie laughs, startled by the connection. “Somethin’ like that. Anyway, it’s kinda _really_ rude. So, maybe don't use that one anymore, and especially not around Anne, or she’ll kick both our asses, all right?”

**“Okay, Eddie.”** Human speech is weird. V does not have their own ‘ass,’ at all.

(They are still terrified, because Annie will find a way.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The jump cut with the elevator was funny, but it also brought this up.
> 
> There's another recent fic that dealt with this in a _very_ different way. It included porn. This is just my take!
> 
> Eddie is waaaay too Woke AF to not be Aware that trans and intersex people exist, but he's literally only explaining the binary so that he's sure V's at least on the page where gender even exists at all. Baby steps, lmao.


	7. Heathens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ever get a song stuck in your head?
> 
> Eddie has. 
> 
> The specific subject of the song brings up the topics of cults, which - of course - becomes a question of what's on the menu.

By this point, they are familiar with the idea of music. It soothes them, which seems an odd concept. Eddie’s brain lights up pleasantly with the rhythmic vibrations, and mostly it doesn’t even approach a dangerous level.

Humans like patterns, they’ve noticed. Music that follows a pattern is especially pleasant to Eddie, which makes it pleasant to them.

However, music generally has a  _ source. _

Eddie is staring into the refrigerator when they first notice the odd refrain.

_ All my friends are heathens, take it slow _

It’s a nearly flawless reproduction, including multiple layers of the melody. Eddie recognizes a piano, a guitar (maybe?), a drum set, and the constant, low chanting. Above all else, the song certainly has a rhythmic pattern.

They realize, after a moment of searching their surroundings, that the source is  _ internal. _ Eddie’s brain is lighting up on its own, playing the song from his horribly flawed memory.

_ Wait for them to ask you who you know _

**Eddie.**

 

The music falters. Eddie jerks upright, startled. “Uh?”

**What is this.**

He blinks, blinks again. “What’s what?”

_ All my friends are heathens, take it slow _

The song begins  _ again. _ His fingers tap along absently, following the beat.

_ Wait for them to ask you who you know  _

_ Please don’t make any sudden moves _

_ You don’t know the half of the abuse _

**That.**

It takes him a moment. “You can hear that? Uh.” He frowns. “Pretty sure it’s about a cult, bud. Don’t worry about it. It’ll go away on its own.”

**What is this. Why is it happening.**

He shrugs, closing the refrigerator. “Just happens, sometimes. At least this one’s pretty good.”

If he focuses, he can actually force the melody to play in its entirety, though the music is somewhat distorted in places that he’s forgotten the specifics.

**So your brain just - does this? Repeats itself?**

He’s still tapping his fingers. “Ye-up. I’ve heard you can get rid of it by actually listening to the song itself?”

**Do that.**

He grins, shaking his head, and goes to his computer to search the song.

They listen to it, and another question rises.

**Eddie, what is a cult?**

The song has, mercifully, stopped. 

“Well, it’s kind of like - so - “ He frowns, gnawing at his lip. “Force isn’t a great way to control us,” he says finally. “Not long-term. We have a habit of rebelling, you know?” His mind brings up a ‘country’ named England, and the fact that most of the world has been conquered - and that they subsequently escaped from its grasp. “So, like, cults are basically - they promise people something, something they want, and it’s maybe impossible, maybe not. The point isn’t in the promise, you know?”

They consider.  **What is the point, Eddie?**

“Well, if you can get a person to buy into what you want them to believe, even if you’re lying, even if it doesn’t make any sense - you can pretty much convince them to do whatever you want, so long as it follows some kinda consistent, internal logic.”

If they were currently manifesting, they would tug their own maw into a frown. As they are not, they draw Eddie’s mouth into that expression, instead.  **Cults are bad?**

“Definitely,” Eddie agrees. “Like, even if it were something as benevolent as just shining the leader’s shoes, they kinda - they erode a person’s ability to say no, and we’ve talked about that, right?”

They bob Eddie’s head in a gesture they know as a nod. **If they cannot say no, it isn’t yes,** they repeat the words. **And consent is important, because humans value their individuality, their integrity, and their ability to make their own choices - even if their choices are** **_bad._ **

“Yeah, V. Exactly. C’mere, I wanna look at you.” His mouth stretches into a fond smile. 

So they press their mass out through his skin, forming thick tendrils that terminate in an approximation of their head, adding eyespots and fangs to complete the impression. He presses his lips just above their eyespots, and warmth suffuses him.

The warmth tastes wonderful. They want to feel that _ always. _

**“Eddie?”** They ask, vibrating their tendrils to form the vocalization.

He tilts his head, pulling back to look at them. “Yeah?”

**“Why is there a song about that?”**

The laugh comes out in a sharp bark, the kind of sound that he doesn’t exactly mean to make. “Man, I don’t fuckin’ know, V. Maybe it’s a warning, huh? Don’t worry, we’ll steer clear of any cults. Or maybe hunt up their leaders, how’s that?”

**“We like this plan, Eddie. Do you know any cults?”**

He snorts softly, presses another kiss to their forehead. “We can look into it.”

Eddie is the  _ best. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had this song stuck in my head for _**s i x h o u r s**_ so here we are with another weird human phenomenon.
> 
> The song is, of course, ["Heathens,"](https://youtu.be/oLeROuCMwj8) as performed by twenty-one pilots, and I'm happy to report that my brain has, at least temporarily, stopped playing it on loop.  
> 
> _Fuck._
> 
> (Also I'm thinking that the DCU is fiction in Marvel universes and vice versa. That seems like a thing that would happen.)


	8. April First

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, it's funniest when they fall for it, no?

It had been a struggle to get Eddie out of bed, adequately fed, and out the door in time for the almost-daily misery that was ‘work,’ but they’d managed, against all odds. 

Honestly, Eddie didn’t even dislike the work. 

He had been hired by a smaller news outlet, one of humanity’s modern responses to the absence of a functional hive mind. 

Whenever something unusual occurred, or in the event some piece of information simply must be disseminated to the masses, the ‘news’ would report upon it. Thus, there was a service to predict ambient weather patterns, to report on deaths, to discuss the outcome of competitions, in addition to announcing any unexpected happenings.

Eddie enjoyed his work. 

V … didn’t entirely hate it, but there were long stretches where they were not allowed to do anything interesting. 

However, today, as they approached the building, something unusual - perhaps something newsworthy? - had transpired. Every single door was plastered with a sign that demanded they seek entry somewhere else.

For several long moments, Eddie stared at the signs in confusion. “Oh, that’s today, isn’t it?”

The gears began turning in his head as he reached into his pocket for his phone.

**What is today?**

Their host had yet to hone the skill of sending his thoughts clearly, but he managed to convey his request for patience well enough. His fingers skimmed through the contacts on his phone, finding his boss and calling the number.

“Eddie? You’re late, man.” V didn’t hate Eddie’s new boss. He wasn’t the leader of the entire organization, and that was obvious by the way that he was always deferring to higher authority than his own. “What gives?”

A mischievous smirk curled across Eddie’s lips as the lie spilled forth. “I dunno, man, I can’t seem to get inside the building. All the doors say to try a different door.”

“Oh, for the love of - quit fucking around and get up here already.”

Eddie grinned, tugging the door open. “I mean, you can’t really hold somebody else’s prank against me, can you? How could I have ever known that the signs posted were misleading?”

“Fuck’s sake. April Fools, move your ass, man.”

The grin on Eddie’s lips reminded them of their own maw, stretching his cheeks wide with playful humor. “See you in five, boss-man.”

**What was that?**

It was safe enough for them to talk on the elevator ride, anyway.

“Mm? Oh, ‘s April Fool’s day. Basically, people pull pranks on each other, harmless stuff.”

It took a moment for them to pick through their host’s memories to try to understand. Pranks were … elaborate lies, usually?

**So … the entire holiday is devoted to lies?**

This was probably one of the more unusual customs Eddie had tried to explain. 

Celebrating the acquisition of a breeding partner made sense, and V was certainly not opposed to the ‘tradition’ of purchasing copious amounts of discounted chocolate in the post-holiday rush to clear the shelves of unused merchandise. 

(If they got a small thrill from the idea that they were celebrating their partnership with their human, their Eddie - well, they kept that to themself.)

By contrast, though, the idea of celebrating lies seemed abhorrent. Humans were unable to distinguish fact from fiction, or so it seemed, and so they spent an entire day lying to one another? 

“It's not just lies - it’s all kinds of pranks. Slapstick is a cornerstone of humor, V - “ 

He held his phone up to his ear, pretending he had a call, as he began to step out of the elevator. They could see the clear pane of plastic wrap stretched across the path before him, but he was distracted, and they elected not to inform him of the danger.

As expected, their host smacked into the cellophane, stumbling in ungainly fashion and not quite falling on his ass. Two of his coworkers exchanged high fives, at this.

They sent a low rumble of amusement to their host as he peeled the plastic away from his face. “Ha, ha, very funny.”

“April Fools!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies to everybody waiting for my next chapter of Outreach - it's gonna be late this week. There's been a small mix-up with my meds. Again.
> 
>  
> 
> Thanks for understanding, enjoy this little snack to hold you over!


	9. Language

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> V is a galactic citizen and Eddie is not.

The argument is a familiar one, to Eddie, and there's no anger in it, for all the humans’ voices are raised. 

“- and you  _ know _ I don't speak Chinese, Mrs. C - ”

She fires off a string of familiar syllables, her voice a staccato-beat of incomprehensible vibrations. They are reminded uncomfortably of the scientists behind the glass, before they'd assimilated their hosts’ understanding of the human tongue. 

Or what they had assumed was the human tongue? 

**Eddie?**

They were keeping hidden, still; Mrs. Chen had been remarkably calm in the face of their impromptu feast, but she was also one of Eddie's few human contacts, and they didn't want to jeopardize that friendship when humans were so obviously a pack species. 

Eddie, for his part, doesn't exactly respond with anything more than a vague sense of acknowledgement. He waves his hand dismissively, calling over the overpriced goods that lined the shelves: “Yeah, that right there, I don't speak that language. See this is why that CD did jack shit for me - ”

**“Eddie.”** The store is otherwise empty, and they push through their host's hoodie, weaving the threads of their form between the threads of the fabric. **“What is this?”**

The argument stops abruptly. 

Mrs. Chen's eyes widen, but she remains otherwise calm. “You still have that parasite, Eddie?”

“Ah - they don't like that word, Mrs. C - ”

They shrug it off absently; there is something greater amiss.  **“Eddie, we can't understand her words.”**

“Uh, yeah, I don't speak Chinese. I never learned?”

Their maw pulls into a frown. 

They swivel to peer at Mrs. Chen, suspiciously, but no, she is definitely human. Her body is smaller and the pitch of her voice is higher; they're pleased to confirm that she is, in fact, a female of the species. They're getting better at that. 

There is the chance she is a Skrull, but only the very best of their kind can obliterate the subtle scent markers that reveal them for what they are. 

**“What is Chinese? Why does she not speak human?”**

Eddie laughs, and keeps laughing. An errant part of his brain thinks this is probably not the correct response, but he's not actually able to shut it down.

His reaction tastes good, even if they sullenly recognize it's at their own expense. 

At least Mrs. Chen was finally able to explain that humanity wasn't far enough advanced to have a global language. They had evolved from several disparate colonies, their species having nomadic roots, and so several different methods of verbal and written communication had been developed independently.

By galactic standards, Earth was something of an anachronism. Human weaponry was approaching that of more sophisticated species. Meanwhile, every other aspect of their culture and technology was so primitive as to be nearly unrecognizable. 

Not that the Klyntar were in any position to judge,  but …

… it was just weird, okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's short, but it exists! \o/


	10. Fiction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One human's humor is another's horror.
> 
> Or, that time Eddie and V were marathoning the Harry Potter films.

Fiction is yet another oddity.

To be fair, they had not previously investigated their hosts' methods of entertainment, nor needed any of their own. It had been taboo, and unlike sleep, they couldn't justify it for the physical strength and wellbeing of their host. 

For all V know, every other species across the galaxy might fabricate such falsehoods for their own consumption. 

"It's a good way to explore yourself, you know?" Their host tinkered with the remote, until the now-familiar theme music rose from the television. "You can ask, 'what would I do in that situation?' Without having to actually experience it. A lot of truth is told in these kind of stories, if you look, even if the events never happened or never  _ could _ happen."

They coiled around their human, puzzled.  **"Like what."**

"Well," he said and his face twisted into the 'thinking' expression. "Like, showing people that it's okay to be different from everybody else, for example."

They didn't entirely understand, but they were starting to think that even among humans, their host was odd.

What kind of a species tells truth with lies? 

The same species that so often misdirects one another with carefully selected truths. Humans have an odd relationship with language, and they wonder if it is merely their inexperience with the social nuances of all host species - if Klyntar are the weird ones - or if this is yet another way that humans are exceptional. 

They enjoy the story as well as they have the first two in the series, but midway through, their host cringes into the couch, flinching away from the creature on-screen.

**"Eddie?"**

He covered his own eyes. "'M fine, V, just let me know when it's gone."

This merits further investigation,  so they pause the sequence. The students had been using magic to transform a creature that embodied their greatest terrors into something they considered humorous. 

On the screen, an enormous serpent had emerged from the closet. The snake had not bothered Eddie at all, but the monster it had become …

"I don't like clowns,  V. Forgot that was in this one, that's all."

They peer at the 'clown' creature. Its features are mostly human, merely exaggerated, a caricature of laughter.  **"We will eat any clowns that come to harm us,"** V announced, their voice firm and certain. 

"You know what? I'm okay with that."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I mean, if the clown's actually trying to hurt them, that makes 'em fair game, right? 
> 
> I suspect it'd taste funny, though. :3c


	11. Mint

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> V isn't yet aware that chocolate is ALSO often toxic to other animals.

**"It … burns?"** They scowled at the food, feeling slightly betrayed by the promise of chocolate.  **"It burns cold."**

Their host popped another 'patty' into his mouth, a smile playing at his lips. He is distracting them, being perfect as he is. 

_ That's the mint, _ he replied. 

He is learning to share his thoughts intentionally, and though his mind is still a constant whirlwind of activity, V is learning to sift through the static more effectively. 

They're getting used to one another, and their bond. 

**"And ... you enjoy this?"**

He grins, baring his teeth. It's one of those odd gestures. Sometimes, like now, it's a sign of contentment. Other times, it's a threat display. "Yeah, love." His tongue rolls across his teeth, absently,  and they find their sight captured by the motion. "Man, we've gotta get some Mexican or something, you'd really get a kick out of spicy food."

They rifle through his memories,  making no effort to disguise their actions, and he laughs, flooding their bond with happy chemicals, at their bewildered expression. 

**"POISON? You willingly eat - "** They glare at the mint- flavored chocolate. 

Betrayed twice! 

Eddie laughs again, caressing their head gently. "Yeah, we're built for it."

Suddenly, they understood the reason their host needed so many redundant toxin filters. They would need to protect him from his species' foolishness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I figured since this general happening was referenced at the start of Offspring, it could be touched upon here.

**Author's Note:**

> Heya! Thanks for reading! Feel free to check out the rest of the collection for more of my work in this universe!
> 
> Also, please comment if there's any 'humans are weird' stuff you'd wanna see visited - I'm kind of adding chapters as I get hit with inspiration for them.


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